Somewhere an Alaskan Mountain

[ellajam]

I'm struggling with this in a few spots but I hope my comments will be of some help.

Our poor Narrator must be exhausted with all that digging.

Somewhere an Alaskan Mountain


I dig when you bring up
that affair with the therapist.
I dig into permafrosted heart,
gouge out my wandering lie.
For me opening with I dig was confusing because of its alternate meaning of "I like", I assume that is intentional and The N likes it being brought up. I'm unsure about "wandering lie", I think you may be able to do that better but on the whole I like L3/4.

It digs not because of the lack
of trust, or the insult thrust
like a sippy cup at the back
of Mommy’s indiscretion.
These first 2 lines are lovely, then the next two confuse me and bring a sort of silly image. I thought the N was dealing with a partner, is she calling herself Mommy to her partner (ugh) or is she dealing with a child? Confused, plus it's hard to imaging a sippy cup doing much damage. It occurs to me at this point that opening the poem with the actual "insult" rather than the current opening lines might be more effective. The poem is becoming a mix of being too much tell with odd images thrown in.

It digs up dead soil full of
fossilized worms. The clangs
of its pick at each dark depth
turn old stones new with time.
Strong strophe, my only issue is with "time", I'm getting that it is the action of the pick polishing the stones, not time.

Fallow fields make feeble harvest, Over-allitterated for me.
but I plow and I plant. You pick
at the scabs, ruby and topaz
tombstones for grave wounds.
Mixed metaphor here, I like the colors/semi-precious gems of the scabs but can't put it together with the planting.

I still dig that poem you wrote I don't know what you're referring to here.
but this silence is not golden.
Our promises did not harden
into diamonds under the snow.
Beautiful two lines to end it.

Welcome to the site, hope you enjoy it.